Into the snakepit
by whatsllthatnoise
Summary: The story of Elektra Perkins before she entered the Dumping ground. About the new family she found and the person she became. Sorry about the rubbish summary. Its my first fanfiction so please be nice! Rated T just to be on the safe side as not entirely sure whats going to happen yet.
1. Chapter 1

N.B I do not own any of these characters

I stare up at the cold, grey walls that loom menacingly above me, seeming to suck in all the colour and cheerfulness from the world around it, turning it instead as drab and grey as the crumblingstone bricks.

A solitary elm tree stands in front of the house, separated from its fellows by the 6ft stone wall surrounding the place. Clutching grimly on to the trees branches, much like the shackles worn by a prisoner, is a battered metal sign. As Im dragged closer to the house I can make out the words printed boldly on the sign, 'Burnywood Children's care home'.

"Right then" snapped a voice beside me. I almost jump, having temporarily forgotten this woman beside me. My so called social worker. I still can't believe this is happening…that mum and dad have done this. I know they've never liked me. I'm too disobedient, refusing to conform, to project the false image they want to convey of the perfect family. The sweet, sensitive, domestic mother. The loving, cheerful, caring father. The smart, polite, well-mannered daughters….

I could never see the point of playing along with mother's games. Sure we may look the part with my Dad's checked pullover's and ties, and my mums prized pearls and motherly dresses, but we were far from the perfect family.

"Mandy! Can you hear me!" barked the social worker again, louder this time. "Well, if I couldn't then I'd hardly be able to reply to your question would I?" I replied smugly, allowing my witty remarks to create a mask behind which hide my true feelings of insecurity and terror. "And I've told you before, its Elektra". I've told her these about 5 times already, and she still doesn't seem to have grasped it. II mean it's not exactly rocket science is it. If she's an example of the intelligence looked for in the employees here then escaping from this place should be a doddle. I just hope she doesn't try to introduce me to the other kids by my real name. I honestly think that giving your child a name like 'Mandy Perkins' verges on child abuse. Don't parents realise that names like that mean that you attract bullies and smart alecs faster than a stray dog attracts fleas? Is it any wonder I changed my name to Elektra as soon as possible after seeing the trouble my sister had.

The social worker blew disapproving through her nose "Yes, well" she sneered "We better make a move. We're late enough already thanks to that little performance earlier." I scowl at her, dragging my Doc martins through the gravel as I follow reluctantly behind her. I suppose that usually the kids she picks are overjoyed to be going. Maybe they can't get away fast enough. Perhaps it was therefore a shock for her to have to pick up a child who so wanted to stay, one who couldn't, who wouldn't believe that her parents were throwing her out like a bag of unwanted rubbish…NO! I won't think about that, I have to stay strong, I can't show any weakness. If my life at home has taught me anything it's that you always have to present a mask to the world. Show them your true self, your vulnerabilities and your weaknesses and they'll tear you apart like a pack of hyenas.

I take a deep breath and follow my social worker inside the home. The entrance is dimly lit, and security cameras follow my every move. Carved into one of the bricks in the entrance are the words "Welcome to Burny hell". The door shuts securely behind me, locking itself as it does so. I'm trapped.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much everyone who reviewed!-invisible cupcakes to you all ;) So sorry it has taken so long to update, I've had various things going on such as my laptop breaking , a billion and one exams etc. Anyway, hope you enjoy the new chapter

When I enter it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the brightly lit corridor I now find myself in. Well, I say corridor. In truth it reminds me more of a stretched version of a prison bunker. The same shade of grey which so liberally covered the outside of the house continues in here, a desolate grey desert. Either the interior designer they employed was completely colour blind or they hoped that by plastering the walls with this dead , characterless colour they would effectively drain all thoughts of hope, rebellion or joy in that kids that passed through the doorway.

Just the thought of this makes a spark light inside me, licking away at the rising waves of panic which are pushing against my walls of defence, threating to betray my true feelings and consume me. The spark rises, turning into the burning flames of anger as I realise that even here, miles away from my former life, away from the constant judgement and criticism of everyone that knew me, even when you would think that I had nothing left to lose there are still going to be people attempting to put the same shackles on me as my parents. Just let them try! I've managed to survive twelve years of mum and dad trying to smother my nature- the very essence of who I am-the same way they did to Mellissa. I watched them strip away all her self-confidence, attacking her with the ferocity of a pack of starving jackals whenever they spotted a behaviour, thought or word that they deemed 'inappropriate'. Things such as staying out late. Smoking. Going to concerts. Getting c's and below. Hanging out with boys. Having a life. They tore so much off her that eventually there was nothing left of the sister I had once loved and respected. Instead of the outgoing, bubbly, confidant girl I once knew all that know remains is this pale, nervous shadow-a terrified house mouse, quivering in the shadows as my parents stalk past.

My social worker span around sharply to face me, somehow keeping her balance on those ridiculously high heels she was wearing. "Right" she snaps, a scowl plastered on her face. I look up at her expectantly, waiting to hear what pearls of 'wisdom' she was so generously going to share this time.

"I'm going to alert the head care worker to your presence Mandy. Don't you dare touch anything or move while I'm gone"

"It's Elektra" I mutter through gritted teeth at her departing back. I have to stifle a laugh at the 'don't touch anything' part though. I mean, even I'd have a hard time defacing concrete walls, particularly since my favourite blue permanent marker was sitting locked in a plastic bag in the boot of her car, along with all of my other belongs which she had labelled as "unsuitable for a young lady". I think it's obvious from those choice of words that she's as about as observant as a adhd squirrel . I mean, like mum says, no one in their right mind could possibly call me a lady.

I listen to my social worker's heels clack down the grey slate floor, stopping momentarily outside the tall oak door which loams at the end of the corridor. I hear her knock twice and then a man's voice-gruff and abrupt, telling her to enter. She does so, and I'm left standing in the corridor, staring at the scuffed tops of my doc martins and wondering how long it will be before mum and dad decide I've learnt my lesson and take me out of this hell hole.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for reviewing CharlieSMarts12, have an invisible ice lolly J I tried something different in this chapter and added my first ever flash back scene-let me know what you think!**

The time passes slowly, stickily. Each honey-drenched second emphasised by the beating of my pounding heart. 'Cool it' I whisper angrily to myself, disgusted that I've let their mind games get to me. I mean, it's hardly as if this is the first time I've found myself waiting outside a locked door. Just that small, fleeting thought seems to act as an invitation to remember, allowing a memory to slip past my defences, transporting me back into the past I long to forget

_I sit waiting outside the headmaster's office, keeping my gaze firmly locked on the phone in my hands. I have my hands tightly cupped round the screen, hiding the fact that it's switched off. The phone is just a prop, a way of conveying to anyone who's interested-anyone who might be hoping to find a weak spot in my walls-that I am not the slightest bit bothered about being here. I look up as I hear the door open, and watch my mum step out, turning round to thank the headmaster for his time as she puts off the moment of having to step forward to claim me._

_To the majority of people she may seem extremely calm and composed, particularly when you consider that she's been called into discuss 'Mandy's appalling behaviour and general lack of attendance'. I, however, have had a lifetime of spotting the warning signs, and can spot the fine cracks appearing in her façade. The slight roses in her cheeks. The flaring of the nostrils. The pursed lips. All of these signs point to the wave of bubbling larva barely held in check underneath her stone mask._

_Sure enough, as soon as we're in the car and safely away from prying eyes she lets it rip. "For god's sake Mandy, what the hell do you think you're playing at! This is the fifth time in two weeks I've had to come in to see your headmaster. Skipping class again! And being abusive in the playground!-what must everyone think!"_

_"I'm guessing they think that I have better things to do with my time than listen to Mr Colson drone on and on about the fact that evolution is a myth, gays are just straight people in denial and the fact that we are all going to burn in the fiery depths of hell" I reply coolly. I know it's completely mad baiting mum when she's like this, but I just can't seem to help myself. "It doesn't matter what you think" mum snaps. "Your actions reflect on the rest of the family. I'm not having the rest of the family branded as unrespectable just because you think you know better than the teacher. You don't go to Re and everyone will think we're not raising you right, allowing you to turn into some god-hating, demon child, all of which is not helped by your general bad attitude I might add. Andwhat's it with this abusive language? I thought me and my father had taught you better than that. Why do you always have to be so selfish Mandy?"_

_"Fine mum, I'll see about completely bunking of, will that make you happy? Then instead of thinking I'm-god forbid-an atheist, they will merely see me as a slovenly illiterate idiot, and our family's reputation as an upright Christian family will be secured". Even as I say this I can feel the icy tentacles of guilt and regret. I mean, she's my mum, she's probably just worried about me and here I am biting her head off. With this thought in mind I decide to let my guard down and tell her the truth "Sorry. It's just the bullying, it's getting worse. As soon as I step out into the playground they're there waiting for me. They pull my hair, push me around and call me names. And when I then try to stand up for myself they call the teacher and make out I was bullying them! I can't even concentrate in class because as soon as the teachers back is turned they do things like chuck rubbers at my back, or put chewing gum in my hair!" I finish this last bit in a rush, desperate to get the words out before I embarrass myself by crying. I look to my mum, expecting words of comfort and reassurance, wanting desperately to be wrapped tightly in her arms and be told that everything will be okay. Instead I'm met with a look so icy cold it freezes the tears looming behind my eyelids._

_"You've only got yourself to blame Mandy. I've told you time and time again to act right and be more like your sister, but will you listen? You can't blame the other kids for taking matters into their own hands. Maybe now you'll learn it's better to be like everyone else. After all, the tallest pieces of grass are always the first to be mown down." With this she turns her eyes back to the road, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. I sit stunned, silent for once. I can't believe what she just said, that the one time I turned to her for comfort she completely rejected me, siding with bullies against her own daughter. 'See' I think savagely to myself. 'That's what happens when you trust someone, you simply provide them with the stones to throw at you.' With that I slam up my walls, determined to never let my guard down again, hiding my true feelings and expressions under a marble mask, in this way alone, truly my mother's daughter._

This painful reminiscing is thankfully cut short by the clicking open of the door. This time instead of my mother I see the social worker standing behind a tall man with greying hair and a face as black as thunder. He looks me up and down before turning to my social worker "I'll take it from here". Without a backward glance she's down the corridor and through the doors, each step taking her further away from the prison she's left me in. "lovely seeing you too" I shout at her departing back. "Hey, none of that" growls the man in front of me. "I'm Dennis Stockle, your new head careworker. You can call me Mr Stockle or Sir, understand?" The carries on without giving me a chance to answer "now, listen to me. I have better things to do with my time than play nanny to some new snot-nosed brat, so here's what's going to happen. You're going to go in there and you and the other kids are going to sort out any differences you have right away. If you break any bones or cause any serious damage then there will be sanctions-I don't like the extra paperwork those injuries bring." With that he roughly grabs me by the arm and drags me to the door on the left side of his study. Drawing back the blot with his free hand he opens the door and shoves me roughly inside. His departing words "I'll be back in 10 minutes" slip through the rapidly closing door. Slowly, I raise my eyes, gazing at the ring of hostile faces that surround me.


End file.
